


Behind closed doors

by Allofmyshameinonepairing



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: ALL OF THE POSITIONS, All of the people - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, F/F, F/M, Hetero & Bi, Heterosexual Sex, Kakavegchima (?), M/M, Masturbation, Maybe - Freeform, More Tags To Be Added As And When I Think Of Them, More tags to be added as this inevitably turns out to be way longer than I had planned, Multi, Oral Sex, TW: Minor Internalised Homophobia/ Biphobia, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, We're all consenting adults here and we're going to enjoy smushing our smush parts together, Yaoi, Yuri, mlm, mlw - Freeform, wlm, wlw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:07:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25961821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allofmyshameinonepairing/pseuds/Allofmyshameinonepairing
Summary: Bored at a party and following a rumour, one of Bulma's guests decides to try and find a better way to entertain themselves, and gets more than they bargained for.
Relationships: Bulma Briefs/Chi-Chi, Bulma Briefs/Chi-Chi/Son Goku/Vegeta, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Chi-Chi/Son Goku (Dragon Ball), Son Goku/Vegeta (Dragon Ball)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31
Collections: Set Your Pee Pee on Fire





	Behind closed doors

**Author's Note:**

> Hi
> 
> Thanks for clicking in, I'll try and keep this brief; this started out with every intention of being a smutty dirty oneshot, and then as I was writing the last few sentences my brain started coming up with new scenarios, so there's likely to be more to come than what's here currently. No idea when I'll start on the next chapter, but I've got the ideas for it.
> 
> For ref in this fic, pretty much everyone's Bi. It's just easier that way. Also, everything's consensual, even if it gets a little rough sometimes.
> 
> Chapters will be noted with their pairing etc.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The surveillance room at Capsule Corp. is one that, ironically, tends to be left unguarded by the security team that patrols the grounds of the sprawling estate that houses the Brief’s family. It is electronically locked, requiring a keycard to access, but other than that...not a security protocol in sight.

A terrible lapse of judgement on the Briefs’ family part, it seems, as a figure creeps through darkened corridors and, with a glance around, produces the required card, unlocks the door and slips inside. It’s not quite the dead of night, but there’s no reason for the hooded shadow to be there, no good reason certainly, and so he keeps an ear pricked for sounds of approaching footsteps as he sets to his task.

Before him is a large bank of flatscreen monitors, playing footage from the various security cameras around the corporation’s compound, the images occasionally flicking to another camera. He casts an eye over them. It will be useful to keep an eye on them if anyone was coming this way, but they were not the main focus of his search. 

No. Instead his reason for being here is to find something fabled. 

Everyone knows that Bulma Briefs was one to flaunt everything she had to maximum effect. She was a vain, if brilliant, woman which made the secret she kept all the more enticing. 

The figure sets to searching the shelves and drawers, looking for anything that would point him in the right direction.

He’s heard whispers, more than once, that Bulma had a penchant for adult films. Not that there was any surprise in that, not any secret or shame, for a woman to have a taste for such things. But Bulma wasn’t simply interested in watching them, oh no, the woman loved to star in them, and, he’d heard, direct them. They were all privately made, of course, never aired to the outside world, but the rumours were concrete enough to make the opportunistic individual take a chance at finding them.

The thought is almost enough to salivate over and he stifles a groan at the mental image of the woman in front of a camera, nude and spread, groaning, grinding, moaning. All the things she could have done in those home made videos, in front of the lens. He has to reach down, adjust himself slightly as he starts to harden at the thought of what he might find, before he doubles down on his task, musing as he digs through stacks of paper.

Supposedly, there was a particular room likes to use for these acts, not her standard bedroom, and it’s curious, if nothing else, that she has a dedicated room for it, a boudoir, one might say. He wonders where it is in the building – locked and hidden away in some secretive corner of the compound, or perhaps hidden in plain sight, doubling as one of the guest bedrooms? Who could possibly know? 

Halfway through a drawer and something catches his eye, a small black computer memory drive, unlabelled, nondescript, and something about it tugs at him, prompting him to move over to the PC that sits nearby and plug in the card. That neither of them are password protected should give him some idea that there’s nothing of interest available, and sure enough as he opens the files and clicks through, there’s nothing more than family photos, mostly of a newborn Trunks, a tired, but delighted Bulma, the smiling grandparents, and, once every now and then, a scowling Vegeta as his infant son is unsuccessfully offered to him to hold.

Dull. 

With a sigh, he pulls out the drive and sits looking around the room with a sudden realisation that he’s looking for a needle in a haystack. So excited by the prospect of having the opportunity to find the videos, he hadn’t even considered how they would be stored or...anything, really. 

Stupid. How stupid of him. Best quit while he’s ahead, before he gets caught. Why would he even think they’d be stored in the surveillance room anyway? Bulma likely had them hidden away privately, not somewhere where the guards could get hold of them, and they’d be encrypted and…

A noise, soft, but there, sounds from just outside the door and he pauses, his breath catching as the door swings open, a thin stream of light piercing into the room. Out of pure instinct, he dives, hiding under the desk as a figure, stooped, steps into the room, closing the door behind them. Beneath the desk, the thief shivers, his hands clasped over his mouth as the new entrant shuffles forwards and slumps into the wheely chair, feet lifting to rest on the desk.

Fuck.

‘Yamcha, if you’re done being a coward, crawl out from there, will ya?’

‘Huh?’ Comes the intelligent response, and the would be thief blinks at the familiar voice, before staggering out from under the desk.

‘Master Roshi?’

‘Yeah, boy.’

‘w...what are you doing here?’

‘Could ask you the same thing.’

‘W..well, I asked first.’

‘Right you are. Well, if you must know, I came here to do a little...surveillance work.’

‘Right.’ Yamcha replies, looking at the elderly man. ‘And what kind of surveillance work is that?’

‘Nope, one question asked, one question answered. So it’s my turn, what are you doing snooping around in the surveillance room of our luscious hostess?’

‘Um...well I...Bulma said she’d seen something odd earlier and she asked me to come and look at the cameras to check it out.’ He lies as smoothly as he can. To be fair to Master Roshi wouldn’t judge him, hell, he’d probably join in the search, but that in itself was part of the problem.

Roshi stays quiet but a thick bushy brow lifts above the rim of his glasses.

‘You? Bulma asked you to check it out? Not her highly trained security, not Goku, not even her husband. She asked...you?’

At his incredulity, Yamcha feels his pride flair.

‘Yeah, me. She didn’t want to alert anyone, just in case they panicked, y’know? She wanted someone covert. You can’t trust Goku and Vegeta to do that.’

The white eyebrow lowers again, but the purse of Roshi lips implies that the elderly man still didn’t believe him.

‘Right you are about that, my boy.’

‘So...why are you here?’ Yamcha asks again, glancing back towards the door.

‘Same as you, like I said before, surveillance. But I’m not doing it at… Bulma’s request. I’ve got my own ideas, y’see?’

‘And what’s that?’

‘Bulma’s sex tapes. Woman’s got a whole host of them from what I hear and welll…..’

‘Woah, woah, you can’t do that to Bulma, that’s disgusting!’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re old!’ He replies without thinking, before he manages to realise that it’s not an appropriate response, ‘And. And she’s our friend, and married! You should treat her with some respect.’

Roshi sniffs.

‘So did you find anything?’

‘What?’

‘The videos, did you find any?’

‘I...that’s not what I’m here for!’

‘Boy, you can’t pull the wool over my eyes. Anyone can see plain as day you’re still lusting after her. Not that anyone could blame you, body like that, but that shipped sailed a long time ago, and Vegeta’s not gonna let you anywhere near her ever again.’

‘I…’ Yamcha’s shoulders slump. ‘Yeah. I know. That’s why I want to see one, y’know, just to remember what it was like. She’s so beautiful! And Vegeta doesn’t deserve her!’

‘Vegeta didn’t cheat on her. Seems he deserves her more than you do.’

‘I, that’s...’

‘So what say you settle down and take a look at tonight’s show?’

‘W...what do you mean?’

Roshi smiles knowingly, then leans forward to pick up a keycard from the desk, glancing at the monitors just as a shot of Bulma and Vegeta, walking down a corridor, passes over one of the screens.

Sprightly, the older man jumps to his feet and leaves the room, motioning for Yamcha to follow behind, leading him to a door a little way down the hall. It’s locked, and the keycard beeps and flashes as he taps the panel with it, opening the door to reveal a home cinema, carefully soundproofed. Roshi makes straight for the front, slots the keycard into somewhere Yamcha doesn’t see and the screen flickers into life. 

He takes a seat almost in a daze, barely registering the other man sitting down a few feet away, far enough for them to lose awareness of each other, as an image of a bedroom flickers into life. It’s dimly lit, the camera running on night vision, located somewhere high on a wall, giving a view of the large room. As if on cue, the door to the room opens, lights flickering into life as Vegeta stomps in, crossing to stand in front of the bed, arms crossed over his chest, his foot tapping agitatedly. 

Behind him, Bulma closes the door, crossing over to him, arms sliding around him from behind, her forehead resting between his shoulder blades. There’s a microphone built into the camera, but whatever is being said between the two is spoken so softly that it doesn’t pick it up. Instead, Yamcha can only catch the movement of their lips, Vegeta’s thinly pressed, his perpetual scowl in place even as Bulma smiles into his back, sliding her hands upwards until her hands are resting on his chest.

Vegeta’s head reclines just slightly, as Bulma stretches onto tip toes, red lips at his ear, red nails pressing lightly into his thin sweater, and Yamcha feels a bolt of jealousy as she kisses the shell of his ear, walking on tiptoes to circle him, pressing her chest against him. 

‘Fuck.’ It’s the only word Yamcha can grind out from between his teeth as Vegeta’s head drops enough to press his mouth to Bulma’s, his ungloved hands finding her hips easily, pulling her into him. She responds eagerly, hands lifting to bury in his hair.

‘Lucky bastard,’ Roshi mutters, twisting his beard around a forefinger. ‘At least they’ll put on a good show for us.’

Yamcha frowns, unable to tear his eyes from the scene, Vegeta’s hands roaming freely over Bulma’s sleek back, her well rounded backside, clearly enjoying himself as fingers grip, his mouth leaving hers to follow the line of her neck, and so it comes as a surprise when she smiles and pulls away, pressing a kiss to his lips, pulling free of his grasp.

He lets her go without a fuss, and Yamcha feels his confusion rise as the woman he’d made all this effort to find videos of, exits the room, leaving only Vegeta standing where he is.

‘Wh...where’s she going?’

‘Hush, Yamcha, she’ll be back. Don’t you worry. She’ll have gone to get champagne or something. She likes that, right?’

‘Yeah...she always did like the romance thing. Can’t imagine she gets that from Vegeta though. Look at him.’

Indeed the man seemed to have no intention of setting the scene, instead Vegeta simply begins to undress, sliding the sweater over his head and carefully folding it, placing it on a nearby chair, his t-shirt following soon after, then jeans and socks, until he’s stripped down to a pair of snug black boxers.

Yamcha turns his gaze away. This wasn’t what he was here for, even if he was going to have to see Vegeta naked in order to see Bulma in the same state, and he sudden realises that he’s not going to get the peep show he thought he was.

‘Ah look man, I… I’m not here for this y’know? It’s...it’s wrong to even think about watching this, I’m just gonna take off.’

‘Oh? Intimidated by Vegeta when you’re not even in the same room as him, huh?’

‘What? No. No. It’s...I’m not intimidated. This is wrong.’

‘Boy, you came here in the first place, you’d already made up your mind. You’re gonna get cold feet now because you’ve just realised that Bulma has sex with her husband?’

‘Well I...’

‘You could do worse.’

Roshi’s head, and presumably gaze, hadn’t left the direction of the screen, where Vegeta was pulling down his underwear and slipping his tail out of the hole in the back. Yamcha’s eyes narrow at the appendage. He wasn’t entirely sure when or how the saiyan had gotten his tail back, but it had been sometime ago. There hadn’t been any reports of raging were-apes though. Not yet, at least.

He watches the appendage as it flicks lazily, the fact that it wasn’t coiled around Vegeta’s trim waist proof enough that he was relaxed, and, Yamcha notices with a grimace, apparently partially aroused from Bulma’s earlier attentions. He’s not fully hard, but the semi is irritatingly thick already.

‘Lucky girl.’ Roshi comments, seemingly unphased.

Yamcha snorts.

‘It’s not that...’

‘Boy, unless you’re gonna get yours out for a comparison that neither of us want you to make, I recommend you accept that our resident prince is generously endowed and leave it at that.’

Mouth clicking shut, Yamcha drops back into a seat, watching as a nude Vegeta wanders away to the door on the other side of the bed. He assumes it to be a bathroom, from the brief sight of tiles he catches before the man disappears inside. With the room empty again, Yamcha begins to fidget, his conscience returning.

‘Our lady will be back any moment. She might even put on a show while she’s waiting for him to be finished in the bathroom.’ Roshi comments, rubbing at his chin.

Yamcha grunts, then narrows his eyes as the door to the room opens again. 

It’s not Bulma. Instead, Goku steps in, still dressed in his t-shirt and jeans from the little gathering that apparently most of the guests have now slipped away from. Yamcha begins to wonder if Bulma realises that her party was mostly empty, but he guesses the woman had other things on her mind. It did seem odd though, that she and Vegeta would slip away to have sex when she was hosting. Normally she liked to see things through to the end.

The thought doesn’t get to develop any further however, as he watches in confused curiosity as Goku slides off his leather jacket and collapses backwards onto the bed.

‘Oh, Goku, you moron, get out of there.’ He mutters to himself

Roshi barks a laugh.

‘That boy’s gonna piss Vegeta off sooner than he can shake a tail at him.’

Yamcha nods in agreement, wondering if Goku really didn’t realise his mistake. Then again, he almost certainly hadn’t. The man wasn’t what most people would call observant or perceptive, he’d probably just found the room unlocked and crawled in for a nap. Odd that he hadn’t registered Vegeta’s ki, or clothing, but then, that was Goku.

The large man lies on the bed for a minute, breathing deeply before he climbs to his feet again, kicking his shoes off and making for the bathroom.

‘Oh crap, Goku, no...’ Yamcha mutters, face in his hands, visions of a gallick gun blasting the unsuspecting man back through the door. 

Grabbing the handle, Goku heads in, a plume of steam escapes as he does. Yamcha waits for the explosion to rock the house, tensing, glancing at Roshi to find that the master is also waiting for...something.

And then nothing happens.

Or at least, the explosion doesn’t happen. What does happen is the door is thrown open and Goku staggers out backwards frantically waving his hands in front of him to, presumably, ward off the angry smaller saiyan. It doesn’t work, and they’re treated to the view of Goku being tackled to the floor, a very wet and still very much naked Vegeta atop him, his tail thrashing behind the smaller saiyan, wet hair hanging down by his shoulder blades, raining blows down onto Goku as the other man attempts to catch his wrists.

‘Woah, Vegeta, take it easy, I didn’t know you were in there!’ Comes Goku’s voice clear across the microphone.

The screen flicks to a different camera, this one positioned so it’s nearer to them, nearly level, its lens panning down to capture their movements. This close up, Yamcha can see the individual tracks of water running down from Vegeta’s hair, his shoulders, dripping from the tip of his nose. The former bandit cocks his head, intrigued. Vegeta looks…different with his hair down, softer almost, despite the scowl on his face as he glares down at Goku.

He’s finally stopped trying to punch the man, but remains straddling him, scowling, his teeth bare and eyes narrow. Yamcha tries not to think about the implication that Vegeta’s semi still hadn’t disappeared, the reddish pink head peeking out from between soft folds of skin, or that Goku didn’t seem too concerned about the position, or Vegeta’s nudity. He guesses that the amount of time the two spent training together, they’ve probably grappled like this more than once, and Goku had never cared much about clothing or decency anyway.

The larger man rolls, as if catching Yamcha’s thoughts, throwing the smaller man off him and climbing to his feet.

‘Kakarot, you idiot, are you telling me that you didn’t hear the running water, or sense my ki? What, do you think I’m as dense as you are?’

‘Oh come on, Geta. It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked before.’

That...that was news to Yamcha and he glances at Roshi. The older man seems unphased.

‘That’s different!’

‘How?’

‘Walking in on someone bathing….it’s private, Kakarot, don’t you understand that?!’

‘Is it? But I used to shower and swim naked with the guys all the time.’

‘That’s...a public... thing, Kakarot. They all knew that was the situation. You walking in on me showering when I’m not expecting it is...indecent!’

Goku takes that moment to glance down over Vegeta’s nude state and quirks an eyebrow.

‘I don’t think I’m the one being ‘indecent’ here, Geta.’ He comments, causing a flush to rise to the slight man’s cheeks. 

Yamcha lifts a brow at the use of the nickname and, more surprisingly, the lack of angry response from Vegeta.

Vegeta’s tail wraps about his hips, effectively hiding himself from view.

‘You animal.’

Goku only grins and shrugs, looking down at himself now, and Yamcha’s eyes follow, noting how the white t-shirt has become see through from the water that’s soaked into it. The material clings obscenely to the muscles below, almost vacuum packed into the dips and grooves of Goku’s body, stretched thin across the broad, rolling plains of his chest. The water must have been cooling, Goku’s nipples stiff and dark, pressing through the fabric.

The taller saiyan looks back up to his training partner, his head tilted slightly.

‘You got me all wet, Vegeta.’

There’s something about Goku’s tone, soft, playful, that catches Yamcha unaware, some gleam in Goku’s dark eyes accompanying the words that make his stomach knot. This was all very...odd. And where was Bulma? Shouldn’t she be back by now with her champagne or whatever?

Vegeta’s eyes cast down over Goku’s broad form before he turns away, arms crossed over his chest.

‘I don’t see how that’s any of my concern.’

‘I could make it your concern.’

A thick brow raises as the older saiyan looks over his shoulder.

‘Please,’ he scoffs, ‘Whatever you’re up to Kakarot, I’m not interested. Leave me.’ 

Vegeta begins to walk away again, back towards the bathroom, and Yamcha feels his eyebrows lift in surprise as gentle natured, easy going Goku lets out a low growl.

‘I don’t like it when you lie to me, ‘Geta.’

‘There’s no lie here.’

‘You’re interested. I can smell it on you,’ the taller man’s head tilts back, nostril flaring, ‘One day you’ll be ok with it.’

Vegeta wheels round at the words, snarling at Goku, eyes dark and furious as his hands ball into fists. This was the Vegeta Yamcha knew, the one that still made him nervous, the one that made him fear for Bulma, despite the fact that worst he’d ever seen them trade was barbed words.

‘Fuck you. You come in here, disrupt me, disturb me, then think you can talk shit about me, because you’re...what? Looking for a way to kill time? Spare me!’

‘Why’re ya playing so hard to get today?’ Goku’s head cocks, and he takes a couple of steps closer to the shorter man. Vegeta, of course, doesn’t budge, glaring up at Goku, his semi fading and Yamcha finds himself wondering why he’s even watching any more, save for the fact that he’s curious to see what exactly the fuck is going on.

He blinks and he almost misses it, the sudden movement of Goku lunging for Vegeta, some wordless signal given, but Vegeta only steps backwards neatly and sidesteps from the other man. If there was one thing the other man had on Goku, it was agility, his smaller form more difficult for Goku’s frame to account for and Vegeta sneers, a flash of victory in his eyes, something else following soon after.

The prince’s head tilts up, chin high in challenge, before he leans it slightly to one side, exposing the lines of his shoulder. Goku’s head drops in response, glowering at the other man, some unknown current passing between them and then they’re launching at each other, coming together with a force that sends a tremor through the building even though they’re not using even a fraction of their power.

‘This...is not what I came here for,’ Yamcha mutters, climbing to his feet, ready to leave. He’d seen the men fight before, a hundred times, and frankly, he didn’t want to stick around and end up on clean up duty. His gaze flits over to Roshi.

‘You’re still watching this?’

‘I live in hope.’

‘Pfft.’ He turns back to look at the screen, and Yamcha briefly follows, just in time to see Goku sweep Vegeta’s legs from beneath him. There’s a heavy grunt as the saiyan hits the floor, his back slamming into hardwood, and Goku bears down on him, pinning him there, ankles pinning ankles, hands pinning forearms.

Vegeta hisses up at him, struggling, glaring, his tail trapped beneath him.

‘Give it up, Vegeta.’

‘Never!’ the smaller man spits.

‘Will these two ever get over this?’ Yamcha mutters to himself, though he has to admit there’s something amusing, almost cathartic in seeing Vegeta pinned and helpless.

‘Not likely,’ Master Roshi replies, ‘You should be glad Vegeta’s here to keep Goku entertained. Or who do you think would be bearing that brunt?’

Yamcha hums non-committally in agreement, watching as the skin of Vegeta’s wrists reddens beneath Goku’s grip, legs struggling to place feet flat on the floor so he can find some purchase, his chest heaving now as the other saiyan calmly holds him in place, ignoring the thrashing and threats. It isn’t what he came here for, but it was amusing enough. Even more so, as Yamcha realises the position was causing some...unexpected reactions again, Vegeta’s cock starting to thicken and rise again.

‘Freak...’ he mutters to himself, looking anywhere but at the man’s naked body. ‘...Goku better hightail it if he wants to get out of there unmolested.’

Roshi gives a short bark of laughter, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose a fraction.

‘I don’t think Goku’s too bothered about that.’

‘Wha…?’

Yamcha watches as Goku’s gaze slips from Vegeta’s face, down the length of his torso, lips twitching into a coy smile at the sight of the organ.

‘Is he…?’

Goku answers his question in action, stretching out over the other man, dropping his forehead to rest against Vegeta’s before his lips press to the other saiyan’s. Beneath the pressure, Vegeta struggles, as he all but tears his shoulders from their sockets in his attempt to headbutt Goku. The other man sees it easily enough, backing up to avoid the blow, and using the momentum of Vegeta’s forward motion against him. He rolls them backwards, then over, pinning Vegeta again, chest down this time as Goku’s chest presses to Vegeta’s back. 

Vegeta thrashes, understandably, his face contorted with rage, feet pushing for purchase again as he tries to lift his weight, and that of the man on top of him. Goku’s hand seizes his neck. Even over the camera, Yamcha can see the pressure Goku’s finger apply to Vegeta’s thick neck, skin denting and reddening and the struggles subside. The larger saiyan shifts, moving his weight to his knees, his bicep contracting as he pulls on the older man’s neck, forcing him to arch back, his chest peeling off the hardwood floor until his spine is arched so far that Yamcha feels an odd bolt of worry for the saiyan.

‘What the fuck...what the fuck is Goku doing?’ he breathes, his friend’s demeanour and behaviours unrecognisable as the free hand reaches underneath one of Vegeta’s straightened arms, sliding onto his chest, palming the slab of pectoral muscle, fingertips halting against a dark nipple. Shock hits Yamcha like a sledgehammer at the sight of Goku rolling the nub between forefinger and thumb. 

There’s a growl in response to the motion, low, deep, Vegeta’s mouth falling open and Goku takes the opportunity to lean in, planting kisses along the strong line of the other’s jaw. Yamcha feels his jaw drop, gaping openly at the sight and with wide eyes he glances to the elder man in the room.

Said elder has lowered his glasses enough to peer over the rims.

‘My, my, isn’t that a twist.’

‘They’re...what the fuck are they doing?!’

‘Fucking, would be my guess.’

‘But...Bulma...ChiChi…’

‘Either don’t know or don’t care.’

‘But...we, we have to tell them.’

Rochi, eyes still locked on the monitor, shrugs.

‘All in good time, my boy.’

‘You’re not going to watch this are you? They’re guys….you’re not gay!’

The elder warrior hoots with laughter at that.

‘No one’s that straight.’

‘Well I am!’

‘So why are you still here?’

‘Because….I just haven’t left yet...this is...’

He waves a hand at the screen, turning just enough to catch sight of Goku’s pristine teeth running along the shell of Vegeta’s ear. It shouldn’t do anything to him, shouldn’t cause anything other than disgust, but somehow it sends a shiver of arousal through him.

‘But...but they’re not gay...’ he whimpers to himself, mostly.

‘What they’re not is human, Yamcha. We don’t know what saiyan culture was like.’

‘Goku’s not saiyan. Not properly. He’s a human in a saiyan body.’

‘Boy if you believe that you’re dumber than I give you credit for. Goku’s always been different from everyone else we’ve ever known. Maybe that’s the saiyan blood, maybe that’s just Goku, but either way, I don’t believe any of us have ever had a good handle on what’s going on in that head of his. Vegeta might well be the only one who does.’

‘They’re still cheating on their wives!’

‘Hello pot, meet kettle.’

‘I...’ that gives him pause, and Yamcha frowns, trying to find some defence. It was different, when he did it, they weren’t married, it wasn’t with her best friend it…

A low groan interrupts his thoughts, eyes dragged back to the sight of Goku sliding his free hand under Vegeta’s chest, holding him up as the other hand drags heavily down his sides to grip at a hip bone, using the grasp to peel Vegeta’s pelvis off the floor sinking him back onto his knees until the older man is on all fours beneath him.

Under Goku’s larger frame, Vegeta’s looks suddenly small, half a foot shorter and a fraction as broad. It doesn’t stop him from struggling against the other man though, snarling in protest only to be cut off as Goku’s hand curls around his erection. The prince grunts, as though surprised, and then Vegeta’s tail unwinds itself from his own body, coiling around Goku’s forearm instead.

‘I love it when you wrap me up in your tail.’ Goku murmurs, grinning into the other man’s neck. In response, the tail loosens, only for Goku’s hand to leave Vegeta’s cock to capture his tail instead. ‘Leave it there,’ he nuzzles into the man’s jaw, before teeth warningly nip at his neck. Soft fur returns to its coil, and Goku grinds his hips into Vegeta’s presented ass, sending a shudder through the smaller man.

Jaw on the floor, Yamcha grips the back of his seat, fingers white as he all but wheezes at the display. He’s not sure whether it’s the sight of Goku being so sexually aggressive, Vegeta being so passive, or that the scene unfolding in front of him even exists, but he swears his heart is about to beat itself out of his chest with the horror, and to his shame, the frisson of arousal currently rearing itself in his loins.

He can’t help but slump back into his chair, watching with wide eyes as Goku leans back just enough to loosen his belt, tugging his waistband down to free his erection and Yamcha feels his eyes widen and cheeks flare red at the ridiculous organ. Goku takes a moment to take himself in hand, almost languidly stroking himself before he edges forward, the red crown of his cock nudging between Vegeta’s cheeks. Thickly muscled thighs shiver for a second, then shift, spreading slightly wider, back arching to present the well rounded rear even further, despite the nasty look Vegeta throws over his shoulder to his fellow saiyan.

‘If you’re, ngh…’ Vegeta’s snapping is cut off abruptly as Goku presses forwards again, and though he can’t see the detail, Yamcha can all too easily understand what causes the smaller saiyan to clam up and grind his teeth.

Goku doesn’t need to say anything, his hand leaving Vegeta’s erection to reach into his own pocket, pulling out a small bottle of lube. He has to release his grip on the other warrior’s neck to pop the cap off, and he’s barely managed to do that and coat his cock in a layer of slick before Vegeta rears, snarling and twisting, barrelling towards Goku.

As though expecting it, Goku calmly leans out of the way, capturing his sparring partner easily and with a roar of his own, flips him, slamming him into the floor face down, hands finding neck and hip and in the next breath he’s buried himself deep inside Vegeta. 

The prince all but squeals at the intrusion, stifles the noise by gritting his teeth as soon as he can, breaking into rough pants when the initial wave of pain passes. 

Yamcha winces, unable to imagine the level of pain the movement must have inflicted, if common knowledge and the prince’s reactions were anything to go by, but Goku barely seems to register it, hips pulling back to coax a soft moan from the smaller man, only to snap forward again, driving the breath from Vegeta as he struggles for it. Not once does he protest though, nor attempt to pull away, tail coiled about Goku’s thigh now. Still gripping by neck and hip, the larger man begins to set his pace, his slick shaft plunging fluidly into the man below him, forcing rough pants from him.

The pain, it seemed, had done nothing to dim Vegeta’s ardour, his erection still fully present, reddened at the tip now, bobbing with the motions of the man behind thrusting into him. His hands are curled into fists and Yamcha stares at Vegeta’s face, twisted in a mixture of pleasure and pain, more emotion in the expression than he’s ever seen in all the years combined that he’s known the strange alien who stole his girlfriend away. His mouth drops open again at a particular violent thrust, one that would have forced him to his forearms if Goku wasn’t holding him in place, soft grunts escaping, and Yamcha feels heat rise to his cheeks at the noise at the careless way Goku pulls Vegeta onto his cock, at the way Vegeta shivers with each thrust.

In the pit of his belly, he knows the feeling that’s stirring, horrified at the notion of being aroused by two men, and his best friend and, once worst enemy at that. There’s nausea at the level of betrayal here too, poor Bulma and ChiChi who had no idea of the level of their husbands’ transgressions against them and yet he still can’t pull his gaze away from the rutting pair. His eyes take in details that he doesn’t want to see; the sweat shining on Goku’s skin, the ripple of flesh as the two move, the reddened tip of Vegeta’s sizable erection and the gathering pearl of precum at its tip.

Shifting Yamcha tries to cross his legs as casually as he can, hoping that Rochi doesn’t notice either the movement, or the tent that’s setting itself up at the front of his jeans. There’s no comment, no indication that he has and so he relaxes a little into the chair, cheeks and ears burning at the view of Vegeta taking Goku’s cock, at the quiet groans and harsh breaths escaping his open mouth.

As Goku’s already quick pace begins to increase, Vegeta’s hands uncurl from their tight fists, one hand rising hesitantly before it reaches down the length of his body to grip at his erection. It takes him a moment to find a rhythm in time with Goku’s motions, his fist sliding back and forth along angry red flesh, a soft grunt escaping him.

The noise causes Goku to come to a halt, and he looks down at the smaller man, realising what he’s doing and snatching his hand from his cock. A breath later and his palm is between Vegeta’s shoulder blades, shoving him down face first into the floor, leaning his weight onto him before resuming his thrusting.

Immediately, Vegeta screams, face muffled by the floor, and even from the other side of the camera Yamcha knows that Goku’s sliding ever deeper into him. The prince’s blunt nails curl against the floorboards, scratching jagged lines into the wood, unable to do anything but submit to Goku’s whim. Something about that sends a shiver of dark arousal through Yamcha’s loins and his hand inches closer to the tent in his pants, the urge to touch himself, to relieve the tension now running through his lower body beginning to fray his control. Fingertips skim the edge of his length and he jerks his hand away, remembering that Roshi is barely a few feet from him.

He refocuses his attention, feeling a twitch of catharsis watching the smaller man be pounded flat into the cool wood floor, his face twisted in a mixture of agony and ecstasy, red, sweating, and still that sinuous tail coiled tightly around Goku, tugging at him, spurring him on. Helpless, Vegeta lets out a moan, quietly desperate as Goku’s pace quickens, his hips a blur, the sound of flesh meeting like a round of sonorous applause. Vegeta twists beneath Goku, rolling to look over his shoulder and with a sudden, vicious tug, the larger saiyan wrenches slim hits into his lap, tumbling them backwards. The effect is immediate; an arc of white from Vegeta’s ridiculously swollen member, Goku’s hips making small, erratic thrusts as with a low growl, his body snaps taut, arched in glorious tension for a bare few seconds.

In the moments that follow, there’s only panting from the two, breath being regained and Yamcha watches, stunned, his blood hot, his cock throbbing within his jeans as arousal and confusion cloud his brain in equal measure at what he’d just witnessed.

‘What the actual fuck…?’ He manages to breathe, shuffling in his seat, trying to ease the pressure from his groin, hearing a soft hoot of laughter from a Roshi.

‘Quite the show, boys, quite the show…’ 

Yamcha remains silent, unsure if the man’s addressing him. There’s been no change in his posture, his body language, since this all began, as if he hadn’t just witnessed the two saiyans fucking each other into oblivion. Although to be fair, Yamcha thinks with a smirk, it was really only Goku who got to do the fucking, and he wonders what Vegeta’s reaction would be if he were to find out that he’d seen him being pinned down and ploughed like a common whore.

He’d probably kill him, but, all things considered, it might be worth it just to see the look on his face.

A quiet grunt draws his attention back to the screen, in time to see Goku push up from his position, collapsed atop Vegeta, and roll onto his side, pulling free as he does. He pauses, looking up at the ceiling, chest still heaving with effort, slick trails of sweat wending between the crevices between muscles. His head drops a second later, chin to chest, as he side eyes the other man, still lying flat, face down, unmoving. Grinning, Goku reaches out, grabbing his shoulder and shaking gently. There’s a soft grunt in response, though the prince appears to make no movement, and Goku seizes the shoulder more firmly, rolling Vegeta onto his back.

‘So, you…?’

The words are cut off immediately as Vegeta slugs a fist into the side of Goku’s face, though even from the other side of the camera Yamcha can see there’s no real force to it. The younger man’s head is knocked to the side briefly and he scowls as he looks back to Vegeta, grabbing his wrist and pushing it back into the ground, stretching over the other’s naked form to do so. Glistening with his own sweat as he is, the white of his cum shines in thin streaks against his chest and belly.

Pushing back against Goku’s grip, Vegeta snarls, managing to raise his wrist a few inches before Goku forces it back against the floor. A scowl twists the younger man’s boyish face briefly until it softens into what Yamcha could only describe as exasperated affection, dark eyes as soft and warm as Vegeta’s are hard and sharp.

‘Come on, Vegeta, it’s just us,’ he bends down, nuzzling into the other man’s neck, before pulling back, beginning to nip at the swell of pectorals, his tongue cleaning the mess from his chest.

The former prince strains at the hold on his wrists for a second, neck craning up to glare down at Goku before thunking back onto the wooden floor.

‘You’ll pay for this Kakarot. Mark my words, next time I catch you off guard you won’t be able to walk for a week.’

The words are threatened in a low growl, but there’s an odd note of playfulness in his voice that Yamcha is unaccustomed to hearing from the warrior. Odd enough that he looks to the man’s face, pulling his gaze from where Goku’s tongue is flicking at his nipple, in time to see an out of place, soft smile flit over thin lips, morphing into the more familiar cocky grin as Goku raises his head to meet his eye.

‘Countin’ on it, Geta,’ his mouth closes over a nipple again, suckling briefly. Vegeta arches in response, his erection beginning to swell once more and Yamcha feels his mouth drop open as Goku, still holding Vegeta’s wrists, shifts down and swiftly swallows the hatefully impressive length.

The prince lets out a strangled groan in response, arching up into Goku’s willing mouth and Yamcha feels his own erection renew, throbbing hard in jealousy, unable to resist palming himself through thick denim, skin crawling with disgust at himself for getting off on the sight of one of his closest friends sucking off another man. But he can’t deny the heat in his belly, the pressure building in his loins. Even through the fabric, he can feel the heat radiating from his growing erection, and he has to stifle the noise of relief at administering the friction of his palm against it.

His eyes are glued to the sight of Goku slowly bobbing his head, lips swelling at the stretch of Vegeta’s thick erection, saliva glazing the turgid organ as he pulls back and eases down to the base again, hovering there for a moment as a hand gently rolls a testicle, the other guiding back between Vegeta’s cheeks. It’s the twitch of his body that tells their audience that those long fingers have breached their target, the way he shudders as they draw free again making Yamcha twitch against his palm. 

Drawing back, Goku kisses briefly at the tip before licking his way down the underside of Vegeta’s shaft and further, to the soft skin of his sack. Vegeta jerks lightly, a puff of breath escaping him, his left hand finding Goku’s hair and gripping, drawing him back up to his cock.

The larger man only smirks at that, letting Vegeta guide him even as he slips his hands beneath the muscled globes of his ass, tilting his hips up, sliding his erection into his throat as his finger finds that loosened entrance. The prince shudders again, and Yamcha shudders with him as he watches the scene unfold, rubbing back and forth over his own hard on, his hips starting to rock in time with his motions, his cock pressing into the fly of his jeans uncomfortably.

On the screen, Vegeta and Goku’s motions speed up, the larger man moaning, head buried between Vegeta’s trembling thighs, moving his arm to wrap around his waist, freeing his other hand to slide three fingers into him. Yamcha can’t see of course, but he can imagine and part of him wants it, to watch thick fingers stretch through tight muscle, eased by Goku’s previous release.

As if the younger saiyan reads his mind, he pulls off, releasing his cock with a wet pop, fingers sliding out, resulting in an almost comical whine from the prince. Goku grins at the noise, his grin only widening when Vegeta snarls, but he doesn’t make any move to draw away or stop, letting Goku grip his hips and roll him onto his side, presenting the camera with a view that Yamcha struggles to think of as anything other than magnificent.

His skin crawls at the notion of finding the alien so attractive, that his eyes are tracking over the hard lines of his body, craving to touch twitching muscles, to run his tongue over the smooth planes of thickly corded arms and thighs. Fucking would be one thing to wish for, a warm, wet hole to bury himself in, lose himself in, but this…

He tears his eyes away from his body, instead turning his attention to the way Goku appears over his shoulder, bracing himself on one arm as they other loops beneath his thigh, guiding it upwards until his knee reaches his shoulder.

Vegeta’s arm, stretches out overhead, braces hard against the floor, tensing to take his weight as Goku’s hips slot against his and he glances over his shoulder at the larger man.

‘Get on with it, Kakarot.’ Vegeta’s growls a warning, and with a sharp thrust of his hips, Goku presses inside him. The low growl turns to a moan, white spilling out from around Goku’s turgid flesh, easing the way, eager muscles gripping at him, tugging him deeper.

With his hips flush against Vegeta’s buttocks, he pants, leaning down over him to press a kiss against his temple before his lips find their way to his ear. He doesn’t move, not yet, and Yamcha can see from the grin on his face, hidden from Vegeta, that he’s trying to get a reaction, waiting for Vegeta to swear at him, or try to move of his own accord.

Perhaps even beg him.

He can’t help but let out his own quiet moan at that idea, pressing his hand down firmly into his clothed erection, suddenly wanting to be the one behind Vegeta, sliding into his ass, drawing moans and groans and soft pants. Perhaps have him on his back, spread open before him, dripping with his cum and still begging for more.

And how he would give it to him. He’d grab the petite prince by the hair, pull it back until he couldn’t see what he was doing and then slam his hardened length into him without warning. Pin him in place and fuck him senseless to feel his muscles clutch at him, feels those thighs tremble around him, ankles locked around his back as that rough voice cried out for him, begging him; harder, faster, deeper. Back arching to allow him to slide further into the spasming hole, crying out as Yamcha takes him with reckless abandon and…

The former bandit’s eyes snap open, fixed on the screen as he manages to shove his hand down inside the confines of his jeans, all but ripping them open with his other hand as he seizes his cock, jerking in time as Goku thrusts into Vegeta’s body, forcing his spine to arch with a cry. The sound is all takes for Goku to lose control, hips snapping forward, hard and fast, forcing grunts from the smaller man’s throat.

There’s no resistance to Vegeta’s body, gripping at the back of Goku’s neck, fingers flexed hard into muscle, anchoring himself to be able to hold steady against the force of the movement. Even under the onslaught of Goku’s hips clashing against his backside, he arches, fingers tensing to give him the leverage to push back into the thrusts, lifting his top leg to twist, hooking the limb behind Goku’s, allowing him to slide ever deeper. 

Yamcha can only watch, helpless to jerk to the rhythm Goku’s setting, eyes darting between the grip Goku has on those hips, the way Vegeta’s body arches, the way his heavy cock bobs with each thrust, the way cum dribbles from his stuffed hole, wetting his thighs. The smaller man is meeting the thrusts as best he can, his lower leg braced, quads and calves flexing with each motion and it’s with a shudder and a low, unbroken groan that every muscle clenches, the warrior all but peeling himself off Goku’s cock as he convulses, toes curling, chest heaving.

Even through Vegeta’s release, Goku shows no signs of slowing down, wrenching him back onto his cock as he curls, drawing a deeper groan that ends in a soft whine from his partner before he too arches and releases.

‘Nnn...no...’ Yamcha finds himself gasping, too on edge to stop the words from slipping out, not close enough to find his own relief. His skin burns, cock hard and throbbing in his tight fist, aching with the need to release.

There’s a soft chuckle next to him, but he ignores it in favour of pumping his hand faster, watching as lips meet again, soft, tender, a word he’d never have thought he could associate with any of Vegeta’s actions, but there he is...arching, his eyes gentle as they lock onto Goku’s, such adoration in them that Yamcha slows his motions and swallows thickly.

He loves him, it’s plain on his face as dark lashes flutter and lips part, Goku’s large hand carding through his hair as he looks down at him. The other hand splays over his chest, holding gently as he pulls free of Vegeta’s body, white dribbling as he does. He barely has to encourage Vegeta to roll onto his back and part his thighs, before he rolls over on top of him and hips ease forwards, breaching him again.

The breathy moan the prince gives is quiet, and yet somehow the most erotic thing Yamcha’s heard this evening and he gasps as it pushes him over the edge, cock pulsing as he coats his hand in his own release. 

For all the relief, the blissful near lightheadedness that follows, his eyes don’t leave the screen, entranced as Vegeta’s hands grip at Goku’s shoulder blades, tail looping almost lazily around a thick thigh. They move together easily, movements flowing back and forth between them, heels digging into hamstrings as Vegeta levers himself onto Goku’s length, the globes of the larger saiyan’s ass flexing as he drives down, arms braced either side of his prince’s chest.

There’s little more they can hold out for, exhausted, muscles trembling with fatigue, and it’s Vegeta who arches again first, a soft strangled cry as Goku moves within him. A heavy thud and his head drops to the floor, moments before Goku follows, groaning as he pumps his hips in short strokes, milking the last of his spend out. He all but collapses on top of him, face buried in the crook of his prince’s neck.

Peace washes over them, calm, quiet, the two figures on the screen unmoving, save for the synchronised rise and fall of chests and bellies, until Goku eventually lifts his head, movements stuttered with fatigue until he rests his forehead against Vegeta’s. The older man gives no response for a moment, his breath still calming, until long fingered hands rest on either side of Goku’s neck and he tilts his head, lips pressing together firm, soft.

Goku murmurs something, so quiet the microphone doesn’t pick up the noise, but whatever it is makes Vegeta’s mouth quirk into an uncharacteristically soft smile.

Yamcha drops his gaze from the screen, embarrassed, not for them, but for his own actions, for getting off on the scene, for being privy to what he knows now to be an intensely private moment, one that the saiyans had no idea was being aired to an audience. He casts about, looking for something to wipe himself off with, only for a box of tissues to appear by the side of his head. He takes it, eyes downcast, before he turns to thank Roshi...only to find Bulma standing beside him, a smirk on painted red lips. He blushes furiously.

‘Enjoy the show?’ she asks, brow cocked, her gaze somewhere between amused and pissed off, as though for once, she wasn’t sure how she should be feeling.

‘I...Bulma...it’s not...I didn’t...’

The billionaire laughs quietly.

‘Just...don’t tell them you know. Or anyone else. For your sake.’

She turns away and Yamcha flicks his eyes back to the screen. The saiyans are climbing to their feet, Vegeta’s back to the camera, seed coating the inside of this thighs, Goku’s softening cock and belly still glazed with their mixed spend.

A thought occurs to him.

‘You know?’ he asks before Bulma gets to the door, ignoring Roshi, who has lowered his glasses enough to look over the rims at her. ‘You know and you’re ok with it?’

She laughs again.

‘You think you’re the only one who enjoys seeing that?’ she shifts slightly, hand on the doorknob, and he notices the way hard nipples press against the fabric of her dress. Her amusement fades;

‘They’re the last of their kind. Maybe it’s just that, and maybe it’s more than that, but you can’t tell me they don’t have something. It would be cruel to keep them apart.’

‘Sure,’ he admits, unable to deny what he’d witnessed, although a glance back to the screen tells him the two warriors are already slipping their usual demeanours back into place, Vegeta’s familiar scowl reappearing. ‘But you’ve never been that altruistic.’

Bulma snorts.

‘How dare you?! I am the most generous, kind hearted, selfless person you know. How much money do you think I spend on these parties so you enjoy yourself? How much money do you think I give to charity, how many inventions of mine better humankind?!’ she folds her arms, ‘I’d give anything to see Vegeta happy, and this makes him happy. And it’s not like I don’t get anything from it. Since they’ve been together… he’s calmer, he’s happier, he’s better with...he’s….better.’

‘And you really don’t mind knowing that it’s Goku who does that for him?’

He expects anger, Bulma wasn’t known for her lack of jealousy, despite her confidence, but instead she just laughs again.

‘Like I said, it’s not like I don’t get anything from it. Goku fucks him senseless now and then. Give him a day to recover, and he worships me like you wouldn’t believe.’

‘You get off on his guilt?’

‘I get off on his devotion. Something you wouldn’t understand, Yamcha.’

Roshi hoots with laughter.

‘Now...clean up your mess, turn everything off and lock the door behind you.’

Yamcha nods.

‘Does ChiChi know?’

‘About them? Of course. You think those idiots are capable of hiding anything from us? Anyway...clean up, get out, and stay quiet.’

She sighs before she turns away and closes the door behind her.

The bandit watches her go, then sets about cleaning himself up, studiously avoiding Roshi’s presence. Already the cum on his hands is growing sticky, and the front of his trousers and underwear are stained with dark patches. He wonders how he’s going to make it outside to his car without being noticed, when a movement on screen catches his attention again.

Vegeta and Goku are moving. He only half pays attention to the words, sniggering to himself as Goku teases the shorter man, and they both retreat into the en suite bathroom.

‘Well...how about that?’ Yamcha murmurs to himself. 

On the far side of the room, the door opens and ChiChi steps in, Bulma beside her, and he watches with wide eyes as the women dim the lights until there’s but a slight glow in the room, just enough to understand the motions occurring as dresses slip to the floor, and curved figures meet.

Wide eyed, Yamcha slumps back into his seat, throws aside the soiled tissue and pushes his pants down his legs, taking his already re-hardening length in hand. He couldn’t wait for the second act.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed please let me now, concrit also appreciated.


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